


Ink-stained Lovebirds

by Naner



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 08:23:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17505044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naner/pseuds/Naner
Summary: A strange man entered her shop and turned everything on its head. Now she's running from a danger she knows nothing about without the man she has fallen in love with. All she has are his letters and clues to guide her way. Can he keep her safe or will she fall into the hands of an enemy?





	Ink-stained Lovebirds

**Author's Note:**

> This was an old fic I wrote ages ago but wanted to finally breathe life into once more. ASoUE is one of my main fandoms and I will always have a soft spot for the series! This is complete fiction and all characters aside from Oswald Mercurial belong to Lemony Snicket himself.

Ink-stained fingers clutched dearly onto the ends of the unopened letter, the piece of parchment placed against her chest as she scurried through the rain. Her boots scuffed along the cobblestone streets, sinking into puddles whenever she wasn't paying enough attention. She couldn't be bothered, however, the letter was all she could think about.

It had no return address, no stamp or even her real name labeled, but, all at once, she knew what it meant as soon as she saw the red wax with the letters _'L.S.'_ imprinted on it. She knew she must run. They'd be expecting her at the house, she wasn't safe there. Of course she hadn't been safe from the moment she met him. Always in danger from the moment she brushed against him accidentally in the bookstore all those months ago.

The girl took cover from the rain at the bakery she once frequented. She had abandoned rituals many weeks ago and that meant no more trips to the friendly store. The odd man that ran the shop even came by to check to see if she was alright. She hated to shoo him away, to lie and say that her job kept her too busy to stop by for her daily run of bread. The baker was kind enough to send it to her door instead, insisting that her loyalty to independently run companies should be rewarded no matter the circumstances. She was very grateful for the slight kindness in such desperate times.

He warned her of rituals and how dangerous they were. That was her second lesson. The first was to never trust anyone - but that was something she couldn't comprehend. It was unlike the girl to not give a stranger the benefit of the doubt. But his view of the world had made her at least a bit more wary. Where he was cynical, she was optimistic. He always swore it'd be her downfall.

The shop had been cleared out that day, leaving her to tend to the letter without worry. Her shaky fingers tore through the top, spilling the contents out onto the table. A small black notebook, a necklace, and a scratch of notebook paper with the number '37' scrawled across it. She examined the notebook first, cautiously checking it for anymore clues. He was careful. Always careful.

There was nothing hidden on the bindings, but three pages of the middle were stuck together. Hastily, she fetched her phone from her pocket - another thing he had scolded her for - and let the bright light shine through. More numbers. 114 and 2 followed by two columns of six circles. Only the middle left was shaded in.

Next came the necklace. It looked like a birthstone. She rolled it between her fingers, searching in the back of her brain for the corresponding month. Ah! Alexandrite. June. Juniper. 114 Juniper Lane, Apartment 2. With a rather chuffed smile, she scooped up the contents to dispose of later. No chance she could lead anyone on now.

Cars zipped along the road, making her rather tense at the approaching sounds. Any single one of them could be the enemy. She wasn't quick. But she was clever. Down the alley, along the main road, around the park three times before heading back to the alley and out the other side. She managed to 'borrow' an umbrella from one of the grocery store's racks, making a mental note to return it when this meeting was through.

Cautiously, she examined her surroundings in the dimly lit alleyway and with a smile she swung the umbrella's hook upwards. The ladder of the surrounding apartment complex came sliding down, the girl stopping it before it could noisily clank. She made her way up with light, mouselike feet, discarding the piece of notebook paper to throw off anyone who might follow.

Hopping from rooftop to rooftop, she eventually made her way through the city and to the gated off community. Shielding her glance from the rain, she scoured the area for the apartment she needed. Down she slid from the drugstore's sloped roof, landing on her feet in front of the towering black bars. She rung the callbox, running her finger along the list of names on the roster.

"Hello?" came the gruff response.

"Mister Thornwood?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"It's Olivia from across the block. You know, apartment 24...?"

There was silence for a moment and then a grumble of, "Yes, yes, of course I remember."

"I'm afraid no one's in my place to buzz me in. Would you kindly..."

With another grumble, the gates unlocked with a loud _click!_ , swinging wide open. She thanked the man before hurriedly rushing inside. It was easy enough to find the second apartment, the girl searching around for what she needed next.

Her hands ran along the bricks of the new building, scouring for anything that seemed out of place. Ah, a tiny crack in one brick. Hardly noticeable. She reached for her set of keys, pushing the end of her car key into the wall. Using the plastic part to steady her grip, she then took the leather-bound sketchbook from her bag and gave it a swift hit. The fake brick split in half, allowing her to pry the rubble away with her fingers.

Inside was a small tape with a note attached. She gave a little smile at the ever endearing word _'Canary'_ scrawled on the note. Quickly, she fetched her old Walkman out, pushing in the earbuds she always kept in her front pocket before popping the tape in the player.

The soft keys of the accordion being tapped echoed in a hypnotic movement. _One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four._ Pause. Soon, the instrument played in a dreary low key.

" _Little birds, little birds only fly with paper wings_ ," came the familiar voice. " _The sun melts them away like useless, careless things..._ "

One, two. One, two.

" _Run, little bird, don't trust your wings in the daylight. Or else the old tom cat will give you such a fright. Night is safe, night is sound. Now sing these final words aloud... La-la-la, do-de-da-do, these are the last words I'll sing for you... La-la-la, do-de-da-do._ "

She ripped the headphones out of the Walkman and tossed them carelessly into her bag. On she began to run, to the train station. If she couldn't fly, she would ride.

The eighth train that ran that night on the second car and the fourteenth row would be where they would met. She had to be quick, the trains were do to leave at any moment. And she had to make sure she was on that eighth train.

_Clickety-clack, clickety-clack _.__

____

____

The bumps of the train car nearly sounded like the keys to his typewriter. She made her way through the train, tilting her newly acquired hat over her eyes. Those curious green eyes scanned the car for the row she was after. He had been waiting for her when she got there.

Smiling bashfully to herself, she took the seat across from him, placing the objects he had given her out on the table - well, all except one. She had always been so shy on making eye contact with him and never did so unless he started the conversation. She heard him shift in his seat and take the clues to stuff in his briefcase, calloused fingertips brushing against her hand for the smallest second. Her face flourished with colour.

There was a teacup to her right, steam filling her lungs with the familiar scent she knew and loved.

" _Earl Grey?_ " she whispered, finally sneaking a glance at him.

"Your favorite." He relaxed in his seat, watching her draw the cup to her lips. "You're lucky I had a spare packet in my briefcase. This establishment seems to have it in their heads that the only tea in the world is iced tea," the words were spat out like venom as he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "No herbal, no breakfast. But _iced_."

She let her smile tug at the corners of her lips. Such a cynical man. After blowing away the steam, she took a sip, still watching him curiously.

"Now where did you get that hat?" he frowned, perking a brow at the conductor hat she now donned.

"I didn't flirt with the conductor if that's what you're thinking," she joked lightly at his obvious jealousy or paranoia. "Ticket man at the station lost a bet with me."

She swore she heard him make some sort of sigh of relief before a rather large bump from the train car shifted the conversation.

"Followed?" He was looking around, eyes only pausing to look at her face every now and then. She shook her head.

"Where are we going?" she inquired after a few silent minutes.

The man leaned forward, hands folded in front of him as he finally caught her eye. He looked almost sorrowful, as if he was going to tell her that someone had died. Been there, done that. She watched him as she finished her tea, placing the cup back on the saucer with a soft clink! before he began.

"It's not where _we're_ going, it's about where _you're_ going. At the next stop, you'll be getting off." Oh, she was definitely looking at him oddly now. "I'll take your belongings with me and carry on to the second to last stop. You will meet an associate of mine that will take you to where you'll be living-"

"Wait, living?" she interrupted. "Do you mean-"

"You can't go back home." His glance fell from her face, almost apologetically, looking out the window beside them. "It's not safe."

"But everything I know is back there! You can't just say that I'm _leaving_. What about my things? Pictures? Books?"

"Gone," the mysterious gentleman replied. "You have no life there anymore, do you understand? You foolish, foolish girl..."

He sighed angrily, shaking his head in frustration as his fingers curled in his short hair. She sat there, staring blankly out the window before finally turning to look at him as he spoke once more.

"Why must you be so damn kind?" It was whispered through gritted teeth, his eyes falling back on her. He wasn't angry with her, they both knew that. The anger was at himself for letting her get caught up in the mess he called his life. "Talking to strangers so carelessly. Letting them into your life when you know they're no good for you. There's a reason I'm always alone, you know."

Cautiously, she reached out to touch his hand. He tore his eyes away from the tabletop, gazing at those curious orbs that haunted him so.

"Because even a lonely man needs to have someone in his life at some point." Her voice was soft and gentle, much like the warm touch she had given him on that first meeting. The meeting that changed both of their lives. "Someone to remind him that life isn't just a cruel game where faceless shadows watch him run. Someone that isn't afraid to reach out..."

Gingerly, she laced her fingers with his, head dipped down.

"To remind him that there are things in life that make it bearable, even for just a _second_ of his time. That someone out there will care about him even while the world turns their backs to the lonely man running away..."

"Little canary, how can you sing so cheerfully when the world has let you down?" His voice was broken, tired. "And when the running man has only made it worse by taking that last shred of everything you love?"

"Because that's life, my silly running man." The girl let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "Hard. Painful. But worth it in the end. It's not the first chapter that tells the whole story, it's what makes up the contents up until the end. And my dear, dear author, we've only just begun a new chapter."

She let go of his hand, swiping the cap off her head to place beside her on her seat. Her fingers sifted through the mess of hair as she let out a sigh.

"And if you've written that I start my next chapter now, I'll do it. No grumbling - okay, _maybe_ a small bit of grumbling. But I won't question your decision. I know you only have the best intentions."

With hidden eyes, he scanned her face and noted every detail of it when she smiled like that at him. It was full of compassion and sincerity. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen such an honest face. Such innocence...

The train slowed down until it finally screeched to a stop. She looked at the passengers rising with worry, her mind racing with the newfound of anxiety of being in a strange place all alone. Those worried eyes flashed back to him as the muffled announcement of the name of the strange place echoed out the speakers.

"When will I see you again? Will you be safe?" she whispered, getting to her feet. She took out the remaining contents of her pockets, including her wallet and keys, and put them on the table.

"I'll send a message when I know they haven't found me. My friends will take care of you and see you get on your feet. They'll build your new identity and you'll have a home before you know it."

"Not a **home**. A _house_." There was a curtness in her voice that he very rarely heard. She watched as the passengers scrambled to get out, knowing that she had to leave. "How will I know who's friend or foe?"

"Remember what I told you-" The final whistle blew, the conductor calling out. She turned to leave, nearly out the door when he called after her. "What about the tape?"

The girl smiled to herself, not looking back as she departed.

And with that, he was gone yet again. The mysterious stranger who never stopped running. Her fingers ran along the Walkman she kept in her pocket, tracing over the play button.

" _Little birds, little birds only fly with paper wings..._ "

Waiting. Such a terrible thing it was to wait. Someone could wait their whole lives for something to happen and still never experience it before they die. It was a rather tedious thing.

She had found that out in the four months it took her to rebuild her life. Well, it wasn't her life anymore. It was the life of one Olive Rose, a woman of twenty years, an editor of the local paper. She was surprised that there were still papers in existence. Being a printer's daughter, she knew her way around the business at least. Perhaps that's why he sent her to this small town.

Oh, she'd have strong words with him. Sending her to a town with no bookshop or even a movie rental place. It was incredibly mundane to live in a close community. Where the neighbors insisted that she come to book meetings and join their knitting club. While she was unlike him in the need for human interaction, those two ideas were things she could live without. But she went, not wanting to seem strange or unusual. Any suspicion would lead to questions. And questions were very dangerous things.

So she attended every meeting. She even took up baking as a side hobby when she wasn't writing. There were late night classes on life drawing that she took to kill time. Drinks with coworkers, girls' nights, and even helping the frantic clerk that ran the local hardware store. 

Anything to make time move quicker.

There was no use being alone. Every second she was left with her thoughts, she would think unspeakable things. Perhaps he had died. Maybe they caught him as soon as he got off the train that day. Or maybe…

Maybe he stopped caring.

She clutched the Walkman closer to her as she stared hopelessly up at the white ceiling that seemed to haunt her every night. Perhaps he had left her to her new life and would never come back for her. But he promised. And although he spoke of himself as a coward and an awful man, she knew one thing was true: he kept his word. Always. From the moment he uttered his first promise after their accidental meeting.

He never had to meet with her for tea that day. He shouldn't have, he knew that. But he had told her that she had such a kind, earnest face that when she asked him to meet her at the bakery she so loved, he couldn't say no. He met her there, prompt and punctual. Reading the paper as he often did before clambering to his feet to shake her hand. The girl smiled at the memory. He had always been so formal.

They didn't chat much. She talked, he listened. While she didn't talk his ear off, she could certainly talk for the both of them. When she mentioned her interest in writing, he finally spoke. It had only been an hour before he had to leave. He folded his newspaper and left it on the table before wishing her goodbye. The words 'it was a lovely chat' managed to escape him before he realized how silly it sounded. That was the first time she saw him get flustered at his own words. Before he could leave, she caught him by the cuff and asked if they could perhaps meet again. She had no idea why she enjoyed the stranger's company. He had been very quiet unless speaking of certain subjects that caught his fancy. When she told him pointless things about the bakery or how she thought it to be a lovely, overcast day, he had been writing something down on that newspaper. Perhaps it was his mystery that caught her attention. Maybe it was about time she stopped being so carefree and finally chased something peculiar for once. And maybe that peculiar something came in the form in a very shadowy man.

"I've already told you where we can next meet. Join me, if you're so inclined," came his reply. Then he was gone before she could even ask him what he meant.

It was that day she realized that clues were everything. The newspaper cleverly hid a code - the Sebald Code as he would later tell her. 'We cannot speak formally. Meet me at the graveyard tomorrow night.' With a wry smile, she clutched the paper happily before darting off to her home to prepare for tomorrow. If they were going to a graveyard, she would have something planned. It was her custom to do so.

For such a careful man, he had certainly been careless that night. Why had he invited her to join him in the dead of night? She thought nothing of it as she hopped the fence, her picnic basket swinging at the side of her hip. Again, he was already waiting for her. He seemed surprised that she actually came.

"What's in the box?" she chirped curiously, pointing at the odd black box at his feet.

"I thought a dreary place like this could be suitable for such a dreary instrument." The shadowy man took out a worn accordion, hands slipping into the straps. "And what's in yours?"

With a smile, she laid out her supplies on the patch of grass surrounding them. It was then that he began to play.

He played well until his voice ached and until the warm baked goods were nearly frozen over. But still she curiously watched him with her full attention, chin in her hands with those orbs of green shining under the moon's light. She was still watching by the time the final note played.

When it was time to depart, she grabbed his coat like she had before.

"This is our second meeting and I don't even know your name."

"It's better you don't."

And again he was lost to the shadows.

They continued to meet. He knew it was risky, but something told them he had to keep seeing this girl that brought a kindness to the air around her. She never asked his name or what he did, she just enjoyed his company. He started to speak more and more, but never gave away his secrets. Still a stranger and yet such a good friend.

It wasn't until their sixth meeting that he warned her that he was no good for her. She hadn't believed a single word. He spoke of the dread that surrounded him, the potential danger she could be in if they continued on. The people chasing him already knew of her. He warned her to steer clear from him from that moment on. But she didn't heed his warning.

But they never did stop. Knowing it was futile to keep warning her, he decided to tell her the rules of the dangerous game she was entering. He taught her codes, the quickest routes through the city, and even hinted at the bizarre organization that hid more than he did.

When he told her to run, she ran.

Hell, when he told her to do anything, she did as he ordered. It was thrilling to finally feel so alive. So terrified of the world around her, but somehow feel safe with this stranger. He was showing her a side of the world that only existed when backs were turned, when whispers reached deaf ears. It was the chance she had been waiting for. And while it was scary, it made her feel alive. She was running now, but for a purpose. To stay alive. To see him.

So as she became a socialite in this godawful town for him. She lived a life that wasn't her own, but a shadow of herself. Perhaps this was what it meant to be with him. To become a shadowy creature that hid from the world.

She thought nothing of the knock on her door on a rainy afternoon. Perhaps it was Mister Planter to ask for help at the store again that day, or perhaps one of her co-workers had needed help on an article. With a yawn, she unlocked the door without checking through the peephole. 

**Careless**.

As soon as she opened the door, her world was encased in black. She was out like a light.


End file.
